Chapter Eighteen
A Broken Fox
The rain had abated. The clouds, however, still encased the world in gloom, while Nick Wilde lay upon his unmade bed, gazing blankly up at the ceiling and remaining motionless, thoughtless... soulless…
Nick was sick of it — just sick of it. Sick of the constant bland dullness which hung about the cold gray room, sick of the sinking feeling in his chest and the cold chill of his heart, sick of the continual lack of energy or motivation he recognized as depression, sick of the memories rolling through his head, sick of his past, his mistakes and himself... and, as to his life? He was sick of it.
Motivation came out of no ware. Nick sat up, a grim light in his eyes. He swung his legs off the end of the bed and stood. He reached under his bed, pulled a couple of cardboard boxes out of the way and reached further under it. He came back out, holding a sturdy metal tin in both paws. With care, he stood, keeping his eyes fixed on the metal tin, holding it firmly but attentively in both paws as he walked steadily to his desk. He put the metal tin down, entered a combination into the lock and steadied himself at the click of the latch undoing.
Nick took in a breath, and then let it out slowly. He raised the lid, twitched aside the protective cloth covering it and gazed down at the shining, metal pawgun within. The pawgun he had not seen for over three years. The pawgun he had not seen... since Scarlett died.
A moment of grief for something other than himself washed over him, Nick's expression filling with remorse as he tenderly rubbed the pad of his paw across an inscription embossed just above the ident' number. His remorseful expression becoming firmer, Nick reached out a paw and picked up the metal device which shone with a dull gray light, and had a wood decal upon the handle. This was his key to ridding himself of his bad mood. He checked the barrel — empty — and then removed the divider from the tin. The upper third of the tin contained the gun and the lower two thirds contained a number of magazines for the gun, a thin cover dividing them in a secretive manner alike that of smugglers who'd fabricate their bags when going through checkpoints.
Through the thick black clouds, a beam of sunlight forced its way down, in through the bedroom window behind Nick's bed, and onto the metallic purple foil of a wrapped parcel on Nick's desk. Reaching out to the gun, his paw stopped. Nick's face turned as a change befell the room which was suddenly filled with a vibrant amber color. The color reminded Nick only of Judy and it made his mood brightened at the thought of her — even while it impassioned the bitterness of his spirit also.
Nick gazed at it for a time — it was a pity Judy would never get to see it — at the present he had bought for her some days ago, wrapped in the metallic purple foil which resembled her eyes, the main reason he had chosen the specific wrapping in the first place. His mind clicked, and Nick remembered Judy's present to him was still in his back pocket. He blinked at the gun still in his paws. His curiosity overpowered his desire to end the pain his life was filled with, Nick decided he owed it to Judy to at least have a look, and reached into his back pocket, letting the gun down upon the desk.
The fox smiled at the small packet, three inches across, two inches wide and quite thin, then slit the packet open with the claw of his thumb, letting the leather wallet slip out and into the pads of his paw. He smiled fondly at the gift. It was clearly an expensive wallet, made from real leather which was soft to the touch yet firm enough to hold its shape. He opened it, admiring the various pockets and compartments for change, ID cards and notes — it was very well made, Nick considered, and could last him a lifetime if he looked after it which — of course — he would... even if he'd never see the rabbit again.
What really struck Nick, though, was the ID photo. It was a simple photo of a very attractive rabbit, smiling towards the shot, her ears high, her eyes wide — in casual cloths and in among a lush, green surrounding. She wasn't pouting, she wasn't trying to look cheeky or seductive — it was just her normal, beautiful smile, and it set Nick's heart aglow.
"Thanks for the gift, Hopps," Nick murmured quietly to the photo. Whatever happened in his future — no matter how bad things got — Nick told himself in that moment he must never let himself throw that photo away — no matter how dark his mood would be at the time. Then, Nick checked around the rest of the wallet. He looked in each of the card slots and the compartment for loose change. He opened the compartment for notes and found...
"Judy, you sly, sly rabbit."
... It was her half of the money for their meal back at Joe's Place. The money he had refused multiple times, the money she had tried to sneak into his pocket twice, and the money she had sworn to pay him back for. Nick looked to the photo of Judy, her smile full of joy towards him. A smile which filled his heart with a golden glow which lifted it high above the sense of guilt and hurt, a smile which lightened his spirits, making them dance through his soul, a smile which almost made him forget about the way he had stormed out, leaving Judy alone when she needed him most — no, when he needed her most— to leave the best thing that had ever happened to his life behind him for a future unknown...
A single tear fell from the edge of Nick's eye. It trickled down his muzzle and dangled off the end of his nose. It fell, and landed with a damp drip on the beaming photo of Judy.
... And then the sun returned behind the clouds, the heaviness of his heart returned, his spirits turned to lead, the truth of what had passed came back and the vibrant amber faded from the room just as all light faded from Nick's life — leaving only the cold gray, the empty husk of a broken fox, and the harsh silver of the gun which glinted at him over the table. Nick was sick of it — sick of everything. He wanted to put an end to all of the foul feelings driving him mad, and knew only one surefire way of making that happen.
Nick slowly put down the wallet and picked up the gun, yet his body put a motion of stop as he gave linger to doubts that coated his mind aloud within, tho such persisted in a timeframe of small with the result of him forging on to his chosen path. His legs carried him in approach to the window, which he raised with the meeting of soothness against his fur, and then… well, he just stepped out into the air.
…
Judy pulled up to a stop on the street just outside Nick's apartment. Despite what had passed between them, her spirits were high — she knew exactly how she felt about the fox, and it was about damn time she showed him just how much she cared — not just subtle hints, not alluding to his feelings or trying to lead Nick into admitting it himself — and not just shy kisses and whispered I love you's either — real, passionate emotion.
She got out of the car and was about to shut the door when something, she didn't know what, made her stop. This same something made Judy look up and she gasped as she saw the red figure of a fox climbing the exterior fire-exit that was bolted to the side of Nick's apartment and towards the roof of the ten-storied building. And she didn't miss the most important piece of the in-motion picture. The gun.
For all the reasons Nick could have been going to the roof with a gun in his paw, only one appeared to fit in the rabbit's mind. And it screamed for her to push her body to its very limits to get there before Nick did the unthinkable and went too far... a scream which her body and mind both followed instantly. She called to him, frantic, as she rushed out of the ZPD cruiser, with the engine still running and the doors open, but her shout came a moment too late as the red fox disappeared onto the flat roof of the very tall building. She all but kicked in the door to the block of flats he lived in and hurriedly made her way to his apartment by the quickest means she knew possible.
The steps appeared steep and sharp like canyons tall, the speed she was sprinting at felt insufficient, frail and withering, despite her best efforts in combination with the adrenaline spiking the blood everywhere within her pipelines of life. She couldn't believe what was happening at this very moment, she didn't want to, even if the proof was instilled in the deepest pits of her eyes. The object of death having given her fur a few years of age, with her heart having squeezed into itself to the realization of what was to happen very soon if she didn't increase her efforts, if she didn't give not-only her best, but… everything.
Dashing down the corridor towards Nick's room, she forced the locked-but-thin plywood door open with one powerful kick without slowing down. She scrutinized the empty room, while the thin curtains blew up from the breeze the open window was letting in, and she was instantly filled with a sense of foreboding, thus she leapt out and onto the exterior fire-exit where she quickly caught sight of her patrol car and the familiarity of where she exactly was, hence her head shot up and her legs began climbing her up the steps in skips and grunts.
The stairs clanked and creaked in dread, she rounded a corner and sprinted up the next set with this monotonous and draining tiredness, nevertheless, she continued this process at a furious rate without allowing herself to falter the speed of her ascension, her heart thumping in her mouth, her veins running hot with this itchy consternation with every whip of breath. There was no telling how much more stairs she had to go through, due to not wanting to waste a single second that stopping would give failure to.
The feeling of losing control and trying to desperately take it back: repulsingly bitter and degrading. Who was to be blamed for such an insane set of events coming to a close? What did it matter, they weren't finished and time was still of the essence that-which gave her the hope to increase her struggle on this mountainous exercise of salvation.
Her mind readied her body for another set of climb, but she was met with gloomy-gray ceiling of the world, therefor, as she reached the roof, she threw herself from the staircase and onto the flat-top, dashing around the side of a ventilation shaft.
There he was — gun in paw and raised. He didn't evidently spot her, until it was too late, until the trigger was nightmarishly loudly…
"Niiiiiiick!"
Pulled…
…
Author's notes:
Hesitance jumps around your mind,
Grooms decision thus chosen blind.
Your thoughts most succulent of snack,
All delivered by luscious feedback.
So don't hide like a tiny shrew,
Thus share that belovable review!
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